


Ten Year Olds

by shana0809



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shana0809/pseuds/shana0809
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who decided sending Whitter to deal with a bunch of ten year olds was a good idea?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Year Olds

It's not that he hates doing PR things. It's just that he _totally hates_ doing PR things. It's like being a monkey put on display and pokes by a whole bunch of ungrateful, critical armchair know-it-alls. If he's going to be forced to do PR shit though, PR shit with kids is by far the best. There's two reasons for that.

 

The first is that kids tend to be awed by him and not spend as much time talking about what he should have done better, or how the team could have won this game or that one, or what was Kruger thinking?, or why this particular line combination? The second is tied to the first. Parents are a little better behaved when they're around their little bundles of joy.

 

So, this PR shit might suck, but it could be worse. He's just got to keep telling himself that until it's over. The media's near, but that's to be expected. The Brick Super Novice Hockey Invitational seems to be a pretty big deal, and it's going to keep the media occupied too.

 

Now he's got to deal with all the kids who come up to him. It's bigger than he was expecting, with teams from all across North America coming. Like he knew it was a big deal--he figured that out the first year he played for the Oilers and it was on the news--but he never realized just how big it actually was. It's stupid big. Do ten year olds from Nova Scotia or Boston really need come to Edmonton to compete?

 

It makes sense for the Oilers to want to send someone for community relations and whatever. It even makes sense for them to send the kids because as much as he might hate to admit it, they're actually pretty good in these situations. If anyone asks him, he's totally blaming it on the fact they're still basically ten-year-olds themselves.

 

That's exactly why he's in West Edmonton Mall with Hallsy and Ebs of all the people in the world, surrounded by ten-year-old hockey players, their parents, their coaches, and a metric tonne of hockey shit everywhere. Because where else would it all be on the first day of the tournament expect in the middle of the fucking way?

 

The kids are crowded around Hallsy and Ebs, practically sending waves of adoration at their heroes in an almost pathetic display of bad taste. He can only hope they grow out of it. He's signed his fair share of autographs and posed for photos with kids over the last hour or so, but it's nothing like the crowd around his roommates. He can't tell who's more head over heels: the kids or the media.

 

He's sort of glad that all these kids are basically trying to climb all over his teammates. He can see Hallsy's wide eyes as one kid drags a stick bigger than he is over to be signed. He's glad he's not the face of the franchise now.

For the most part, he tries to keep himself far enough back that he can watch his teammates for when they do something really stupid, like Hallsy putting his foot in his mouth and having to backtrack to stop a kid from crying or Ebby making one little girl furious by calling her a boy. Mainly, it's all about high fives and hearing about how awesome they both are.

 

And that kind of makes him want to puke.

 

It's not easy like that for him. Reaching out to fans isn't supposed to be bad, but sometimes it sucks. Like what's he supposed to do with this virtual stranger? Their excitement makes it pretty hard to resist them, and he knows shit all about them.

 

That shit is _awkward_.

 

He's so busy watching his teammates try to cover up what assholes they actually are and impress the kids and their parents that he's surprised to feel a tug at his pants leg. He looks down to see a kid standing closer to him than any of the others have come so far. Normally, they stop just outside his personal space bubble until he lets them in. This one just wandered in, just like Hallsy and Ebs are prone to do.

 

Great, he's got a ten-year-old version of Hallsy or Ebs holding onto his pants, which is an image he really doesn't need.

 

And the kid's got these really huge, excited eyes like he's just seen an amazing goal or Wayne Gretzky or Mario Lemieux or something.

 

"You're Ryan Whitney, aren't you?"

 

Well, the kid's got his name right so this isn't a case of mistaken identity, and he better play nice.

 

He crouches down because he's never been comfortable with trying to talk to someone whose head at the same level of his junk. It's easier when he can see their faces and judge if he's about to step in it.

 

He's not used to kids this age seeking him out. Sure, he meets them with the team all the time, but then he's just a pro hockey player and one of the Oilers, and that makes everything about him cool; this time this kid wants to talk to him because he's Ryan Whitney. That doesn't happen very often.

 

It's kind of cool. He can see why his asshole roommates like it. Not that he's ever telling them that. He glances over at the two fools to make sure they're still caught up in the virtual forest of children around them and not liable to end up chirping him over this.

 

"I am. You've got a good eye. What's your name, buddy?"

 

"I'm Mike, but my teammates call me Mikey. You can call me Mikey too."

 

"Okay, Mikey. What's your team?"

 

"I'm on the Pembina Valley Hawks. I play defense, just like you. I'm really good. I'm the best on my team. Just like you."

 

"Bet you are, buddy."

 

"You're my hero. One day, I want a point shot like you, and I want to be able to pass the puck like you. You're super awesome, Mr. Whitney."

 

"Thanks, Mikey. You're playing today, right?"

 

He gets an enthusiastic nod in return. He's a little bit afraid the kid's going to nod his head right off, but everything stays where it's supposed to.

 

Thank God.

 

"We're playing the SWAT Snipers first. We're going to beat them so bad."

 

"I bet you're even better than me."

 

He can instantly tell he's said something wrong when the kid doesn't start beaming like he should have at that. 

 

"No." It's said with all the belief of a small child. "Because you're the best _ever_."

 

It's sort of touching the way the kid says it. Of course, if he were the best ever his ass wouldn't be stapled to the bench so much, but he's betting telling Mikey that wouldn't go over so well.

 

"I'm not so sure, buddy. I haven't seen you play yet. I bet you're better than me."

 

"You're silly, Mr. Whitney. I'm just a kid, and you play for the Oilers. You're like a _professional_. I've been practicing every night to pass like you do. I'm getting real good. It almost always gets to the guy I'm passing to."

 

"That's awesome, buddy."

 

He's smiling because it's impossible to talk to this kid who thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread and not smile. Maybe that's how Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber get through these press things. It's easier when the people he's talking to think he's the greatest, and he can practically see the love of hockey shining in their faces.

 

It reminds him why he wanted to do this when all the complicated shit about being a pro starts to weigh on him. There was a time when he was Mikey's age, and he couldn't fucking wait to play hockey.

"You're going to stay and watch us play, right? You can see my passes, and maybe you can tell me how to get better."

 

There's a disgusting amount of hope in this kid's face, and he knows he's not going to be a coach because that much hope directed at him on a regular basis would be exhausting.

 

He'd been hoping to escape as soon as Ebs dropped the damn puck in the first game, but he's not sure he can tell this kid that and see his face drop into disappointed lines. That's the one thing he doesn't like about meeting kids. He always feels like a complete asshole when he has to say no to something.

 

"Sure I will, buddy. You know that Ebs's going to drop the puck for you guys, right?"

 

"That's cool. He's a pretty good player, but it would be cooler if you did it."

 

"Anyone ever tell you're kind of crazy, little man? Don't worry, that'll be good if you stay a D-man. You need some crazy to block shots. Besides, even if I were dropping the puck, you're on D. You're not going to be taking face-offs."

 

Mikey's face falls a little, and he inwardly curses himself for being as stupid as Hallsy, which is a hard thing to do, but the kid recovers after a second.

 

"I guess it's okay that Eberle does it then. He's still pretty cool."

 

"Just not as cool as me, right?"

 

He gets another one of those nods that makes him fear for this kid's neck. "This is like the coolest thing to ever happen to me. I'm telling my little brother all about it when I get home."

 

"Worth coming all the way to Edmonton for?"

 

"I live in Pembina Valley, so Edmonton is like huge. This has been totally awesome. We haven't even like won a game yet or anything."

 

Mikey's probably right then. He doesn't actually know where Pembina Valley is, which probably means it's some little town in the middle of nowhere in Canada, and even Edmonton is cooler than that. 

 

"Will you sign my shirt, Mr. Whitney? Please?"

 

"Of course I'll sign your shirt, buddy." He looks up to see a woman he's pretty sure must be Mikey's mom holding an Oilers shirt and a Sharpie. He carefully signs the shirt and hands Mikey back to his mom with relief.

 

Kids are fucking exhausting, which means maybe his roommates will be tired out from playing with their age group, and he'll actually get some peace tonight.

 

He can hear the two jackasses he came with making cooing noises behind him as he pushes himself out of his crouch.

"Aww, look at that, Ebby. Whits can make friends."

 

"Shut it, you two. It's not like I didn't watch these kids practically crawling all over you, and the two of you just loving it. Finally getting to relate to someone on your own level must have been such a relief. I totally get why you're like their favourites ever though. Same age and all. It's obvious to me that kids today have no taste. Except Mikey. He knows a good hockey player when he sees one."

 

Hallsy's laughter sounds like a noise a donkey might make. hen he says that, Ebs starts laughing, but whatever, kids and swearing where they can hear him and all that. He doesn't want the PR people to string him up by the toes for corrupting the next generation or something. Except Hallsy because in that case, it's already a lost cause.

 

The wide eyes of the kids follow them as they head towards the ice to wait while Ebs does his thing with dropping the puck. He feels like an animal in a zoo, with everyone watching while the announcer talks about the Edmonton Oilers Community Foundation and its commitment to minor hockey and helping kids play the game they love. He waves on cue and tries to smile, but it's tough.

 

Mikey's stuffed on the bench with the rest of his team during the speeches, waving frantically. Finally, when the speeches are wrapping up, and he can see the news cameras are focused on Ebs standing at centre ice, he waves back.

Hallsy's elbowing him. He's trying to be subtle about returning the favour because a whole bunch of people are watching them and Hallsy should try not acting like a child for once. He only elbows Hallsy back once, but he aims it to make it worth it.

 

Hallsy lets out a _ooph_ and a big breath and finally fucking stops.

 

One for the adults.

 

"Owww."

 

Jesus Christ. Now he even sounds five.

 

"Then don't start things you can't finish, you idiot."

 

"Who says I can't finish?" Hallsy whines.

 

"Jesus Christ, Hallsy. Now is _not_ the time to talk about your sex life with Ebs. Your boy's about to drop the puck, so try and pay attention."

 

Hallsy shuts up, just like he knew the annoying little shit would. Mikey might be his biggest fan here, but there's no doubt about it, Hallsy is Ebs's biggest fan.

 

And he doesn't just mean height-wise.

**Author's Note:**

> It took longer than I'd like, but this is my contribution to the kid!fic trope.
> 
> It's a gift to LJ user shihadchick, and wouldn't exist of not for LJ user caaare, my Whitter expert, and LJ user liroa15, my everything expert.
> 
> Information about last years Brick invitational tournament can be found http://brickinvitational.pointstreaksites.com/view/brickinvitational . To the best of my knowledge the Oilers haven't been sent to do publicity there yet. However, it is a VERY big deal in the City of Edmonton, and is held on the West Edmonton Mall Ice Rink. Jonathon Toews was part of one winning team, and you have no idea how many times that comes up when you do basic research on it.


End file.
